Certain Things I Ignore
by MaeWednesday1967
Summary: Summer weddings are always the most beautiful, and the marriage of two League legends is sure to be one to remember. However, things are never quite as they appear. This is a story where John and Mari make it to the alter, but the road is a little more complicated than it may seem. Rate and review!
1. June 14th

Mari ran her hands over the lace fabric of her dress and wondered once again if she had gone too traditional. The gown which clung to her slim body was a crisp white rather than the cream color she had originally preferred, but she had worried that the cream wouldn't look as good in photographs. Especially if it rained, like the weather seemed to imply it would. She sighed and adjusted the sash at her waist so it was just a quarter an inch higher, which would allow it to avoid catching on the tiny pearls carefully sewn into the mermaid gown. After fluffing her veil one last time, she sighed and flashed herself a quick smile in the mirror. _Perfect._

"You look nice." A soft voice called from behind her.

Her golden eyes darted to the reflected doorway, which had been empty a moment before. There, leaning against the wooden edging, stood one of her guests who she had to admit she was surprised to see. Most of her family had been hurrying around the grounds of the garden making sure that everything ran smoothly while she had been left with the hair and makeup stylists. Her many friends wouldn't be arriving until later, except for the bridesmaids who were getting their nails finished. It was, she had to admit, good to see a friend just then. Her smile widened into a genuine grin and she spoke excitedly, "I didn't think you were going to be able to make it."

The scarlet haired woman's face fell a bit, "I can't. But I understand that it is customary to give your best wishes to the bride to be, so I thought I would stop by for a few minutes."

Mari spun carefully around, allowing her dress to brush over the hard wooden floors of the room, to face Shayera. Whereas the woman almost exclusively wore workout gear, she had donned a short, deep purple dress for the occasion which hung loosely on her frame yet still made her appear fragile and feminine. That was accented even more by the small pumps on her feet and careful amount of makeup on her face. Even her usually straight hair was curled and spun into a loose braid. Mari took a moment to admire her before teasing, "I thought you quit the League to have more time for events like these. Come on! Don't you want to stay for the reception? We're going to have every kind of cake imaginable."

One side of Shayera's mouth perked up, and she walked towards the bride, "Yes, but your wedding is a special occasion. There were so many heroes who wanted to attend that Clark asked me to come back in, just for the day. Weren't enough people to cover all of the shifts otherwise."

"What?" Mari laughed lightly, "A couple of months off duty and you want to fly straight into combat?"

"I am perfectly capable of taking down any number of beasts and monsters" Shayera looked offended, but her face softened quickly, "But no. Bruce assigned me to monitor duty for the day. I'll just be coordinating the others, not partaking in any fights...unfortunately."

Mari stuck her hands out with a smile, "I'm glad you came though."

Shayera slid hers calloused hands into Mari's soft, manicured ones and allowed the model to swing their arms gently between them, "I hope that everything goes well for you today."

"Are you going to stop and say hello to John?" Mari asked curiously.

It took far too much effort on Shayera's part to stop herself from freezing at the sound of his name. Instead, she kept her arms loose, took only the smallest intake of breath, and said, "No, he and the boys are busy. Wally planned some kind of party for them last night and I think they're all trying to recover before the ceremony."

Mari laughed, "Sounds right."

"Everything else looks to be in place." She smiled as she nodded her head towards the window, "I took a look at the setup before coming inside. It looks just like the pictures you showed me."

"I haven't seen it yet. Have you noticed if the flowers arrived?" She worried.

Shayera gave her a look, "They have. Not that you should be concerned. You should be relaxing and practicing your vows."

Mari laughed, "I'll take that into consideration."

"Do you need anything before I go?" Shayera asked, taking her hands back.

"Yes!" Mari exclaimed. "Do you have a bobby pin or hair tie with you?"

"Um," Shayera frowned, "No, but I'm sure I can go ask one of your bridesmaids if there are extra someplace."

"No, it's no problem really. What else do you have on you?" Mari insisted.

"Excuse me?"

"I need to borrow something." Vixen said quickly, "It's a tradition that some people on Earth follow. You need four things for your wedding - something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. I have all my bases covered, but I need something borrowed."

"Oh," Shayera frowned and thought for a moment. Her mind went to the sparkling clip in her hair or twenty dollars from her wallet, but words spoken months ago whispered in the back of her mind. Hesitating for a moment, she reached up to the pinky finger on her right hand and slowly twisted off a simple gold band. It seemed like forever since it had been removed, and her skin stung with the sudden exposure to air and light. Still, she cupped it carefully in her hand and held it out to the excited bride.

Mari smiled appreciatively at Shayera as she gingerly clasped it between two fingers, "I've never seen you take it off. Thank you."

"Don't say that." Shayera said sounding distant, "I borrowed it too."

Mari knew better than to ask. She pushed the ring just slightly to get it over the bulge of her knuckle, and then held it up so she could admire the glimmer the aged metal gave off, even in the artificial light of the dressing room. After running her hands over the skirt of the dress one more time, she asked, "You're sure you can't stay? You could even skip the ceremony and stay for just the after party."

"Sorry," She feigned regret, "Can't do that unless you give up your best man."

Mari frowned, "I don't think even I could rearrange the bridal party at last minute."

Shayera smiled over her shoulder as she strode out of the room, "That's what happens when all your friends work in the same profession!"

* * *

Shayera was walking out of the lodge when John walked in. She hadn't meant to run into him - in fact she had arranged her visit specifically to avoid him. The image of him in his tux, gorgeous as ever with the emerald green handkerchief in his pocket bringing out the glow of his eyes more than usual was not something that she had wanted chained to her memory. He froze at the sight of her, as she did with him. A sharp pain pierced at her heart as she held his accusing stare.

"What are you doing here?" John asked sharply.

"I was just leaving." She said defensively, "I have monitor duty, but Mari's still my friend. All I wanted was to wish her my best before the wedding."

"I assumed when we said we would be staying out of each other's lives that meant the lives of our significant others as well." He said coldly.

The color from her face drained and she snapped, "I'm not the one who started this."

He sighed, "You were the one who left."

"Like I had so many great choices if I had stayed." She growled, "I made a decision that was best for all parties involved, including the League. Don't act like you had any better ideas."

He glared at her but backed down, "Okay, whatever you say. I have to get to pictures."

"Great." Shayera said shortly, "Congratulations or whatever."

"Right." He said briskly, "Thanks."

It took all of his resistance for his gaze not to follow her as she brushed past him in her walk to the field. In a moment, a flash of light would carry her through the atmosphere and into the safe confines of the Watchtower. He knew she wouldn't linger after today. It was unlikely he would see her again; Shayera was never one to renege on a decision. _This was goodbye._


	2. February 2nd

"Where the hell are we supposed to live then?" Mari yelled at John Stewart from across his room in the Watchtower. He had been spending more time there than usual because of the increased number of missions the League was taking outside of the solar system, and it was taking a toll not just on their relationship, but on their search for an apartment. They still hadn't decided on whether to live in New York or Detroit, so they had chosen to look for places in both cities and then pick their favorite together. Or at least Mari thought they had, "If you don't look at places in Detroit, then we won't have a choice but to move to New York!"

John, pulled off his sweaty undershirt and ran his hand over his smooth scalp. He was exhausted from the recent mission he'd just finished debriefing J'onn about, and all he wanted was a hot shower and a good nap. _And to never talk about New York again._ He sighed in frustration and tossed back, "You know I don't want to live in New York."

"You've made yourself very clear on that point." She said flatly.

"And you've made it very clear to me that you're only looking at apartments in Detroit to make me feel like I have a choice in this whole decision while you shove your options down my throat! What is so wrong with Detroit?" He shouted, "Is it the city or the fact that you weren't the one who chose it?"

"My life is based out of New York!" She grabbed a clean sweater off of a nearby chair and threw it at him.

"And mine is in Detroit!" He caught the piece of clothing effortlessly and slipped it on. It only took him a second before he continued, "But god forbid that my wishes come first. You prefer the East Coast, so by all means I should pack my things and follow you there!"

"I never said that. It's just that all my jobs are there and it would be so much more difficult if I was based out of Detroit. You can do your work from anywhere. In fact, you're barely in your apartment at all anymore! Even so," She crossed her arms stubbornly and flicked her short bangs out of her face, "I said that I was willing to consider options in Detroit and if we found someplace homey that I would take into consideration-"

"Settle!" He interrupted angrily, "You said settle!"

"An option which would make us both happy." She finished, "I've given you at least eight places to look at and you haven't even called a real estate agent to look into the possibility of finding a place in Detroit! It's like you're not even trying. John, we're supposed to get married in June! What am I supposed to do, just give up my place, move in with you in Detroit, and commute every single day?"

"I like my apartment!" He shouted.

"The point is to find our place!" She growled, "Someplace we both like and that works for us!"

"We can't even agree on a wedding venue, let alone somewhere to live permanently!"

"So what are you saying, then?" She cried, "That we just shouldn't get married?"

A tense canyon of silence stretched between the two of them, swallowing up any words of anger which John still had burning in his lungs. Mari stared at him, arms outstretched in anger, face flushed in horror. Meanwhile, John just frowned and stared right back at her indecisive on what to say next, both afraid of his honesty and of lying to her. His hands shook a little, but he clenched his fists just once, and stretched his fingers across the rough material of his denim jeans.

Finally, Mari whispered, "Is our engagement a mistake?"

John sighed, "Listen-"

"No." She quickly wiped away a tear before it could fall, "I'm not doing this right now. I just-" She grabbed her purse and jacket, "I just need a few minutes to gather my thoughts and figure out what I-" Without finishing her though, the model fled out the door, disappearing into the Watchtower.

John didn't even have the energy to follow after her.

* * *

"Don't even pretend like you didn't hear that." His voice called from her doorway.

Shayera laid flat on her bed, one wing sprawled out on either side of her with the tips hanging carelessly off the edge. Her damp hair was bunched into a messy knot on top of her head and she wore simple green pajama shorts with a plain tank top. Above her, she held a tattered book which J'onn had loaned her from his expansive collection of Russian literature. Until a few minutes ago, it had actually held her interest quite well. Until the shouting from a few doors down had begun echoing off of her walls just loud enough that she couldn't possibly ignore it.

She sighed as she turned the page, "No idea what you are talking about."

"Wow." John said as he walked into her room and sat down on the simple wooden chair she kept at her desk, "I thought we were past the point of lying."

She frowned as she closed her book, "I didn't think it was lying if the purpose is to be polite. Human culture is so complicated."

He chuckled, "What are you reading?"

Her frown turned from one of confusion to annoyance, "Poetry, I believe."

"Poetry?" He laughed in surprise.

She pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face as she admitted, "Apparently some others think that I am…brisk was the word Clark said. Personally, I thought the words they were using were self-centered and egotistical, but my hearing isn't as good as his. Anyway, J'onn thought that poetry would help me to keep a more positive outlook and improve my people skills. I guess that's what he uses."

"You aren't one to care what people think." John smiled.

"Maybe that's why I spend more time in the field than nearly anyone else." She sat up to look at him more clearly, placing the old book gently on her nightstand and wrapping her arms around her legs. His face was pale and exhausted, his eyes even drooped a bit at the edges where they would usually be filled with humor or serious thought. Tilting her head to the side, she quipped, "Want to talk about it?"

John shook his head, "I want to talk about anything other than that."

Shayera frowned, thought for a second, and came up with, "Flash fell in the ocean today."

There was a short pause as John processed what she had just said before he burst out in delighted laughter. He leaned back in his chair, holding his stomach to stop the pain in his sides from the force of his loud chuckles, and struggled to breath. Shayera giggled a little alongside, but it took John at least five minutes to compose himself enough that he could ask, as he wiped away tears from his eyes, "How?"

"Well," She began, "He was running and I was flying alongside, and like usual, he wanted to show off. We weren't doing much of anything, just needed to get out of the Watchtower for a while. Anyway, he was trying to run up a wave, but didn't plan for how uneven the water was compared to when it's flat. Rather than run over it, the water slowed down one of his feet and… well, let's just say when you're going that fast you don't just fall in. You kind of skip like a rock until you slow down."

"How long does it take to slow down?" John said between laughs.

"Longer than one would think." She smiled.

John started laughing hysterically again before Shayera had even finished. She smiled widely and asked, "Are you on duty tomorrow?"

He shook his head, still trying to compose himself, "I finally have a full day off."

She crinkled her nose, "You're going to miss out on all of the fun. I've got a good feeling."

He breathed out in relief, "And you're usually right."

She nodded.

"What was it last time?" He quipped.

"Giant tsunami."

"Giant tsunami." He said with a small smile of contentment. She chuckled a little bit and they held eye contact for just a moment more. Finally, he stood up and muttered, "Well, I'd better let you get some sleep then."

She smiled and whispered back, "Good night."

"Goodnight." He said as he slid her door shut.


	3. February 3rd

"I can't see anything!" Shayera called into her comm link.

Around her burned a savage fire which was consuming the large apartment complex while pillars of thick black smoke snaked through the building like tendrils of a monster. The material was filling her lungs rapidly, making it difficult for her to breath, not to mention the hot flames that were closing in on her and the small child she held in her arms. When part of the building had collapsed, blocking the heroine's way back to the window through which she had slipped in, she had been forced to delve deep through the heart of the structure for a different path. Now, she found herself lost and losing time until the entity collapsed entirely. Not to mention she didn't know how far out backup was.

"J'onn!" She called again.

"Others are coming to help. Stay where you are!" He ordered.

"That's not an option!" She argued, clutching the tiny girl closer to her chest, "She's not going to make it much longer, and there's not enough air for me!"

"Shayera-" He began.

"Give me something!" She yelled.

John's strained voice came on her comm, "To your right, down the hall there's a staircase. You're going to have to go straight up as fast as you can."

"Got it." She called back.

The winged woman raced down the narrow corridor, embers dancing dangerously close to her. She hissed in pain as her right wing received a hot burn, and pulled the feathered appendages as close to her body as she could. There was no way she was going to be able to fly out of the building, and while her alien body usually made her more durable in these situations, her respiratory system was designed for high altitudes. The smoke would actually affect her _more_ than humans. She was basically powerless.

Kicking in the door to the stairwell, she realized it was also far too narrow to fly up. Worse yet, the smoke which had been heavy in the rest of the building was flowing up through the stairwell in an impenetrable wall. There was no time to second guess her decision. She pulled off the child's jacket, and tucked it loosely around her tiny mouth, giving her at least some protection from the noxious gases. She sucked in one last breath of somewhat decent air for herself and took the stairs two at a time. As she hurried, she heard John's serious voice again, "Don't you dare pass out. If you can't fly from the roof, at least jump. But don't you dare pass out."

She tapped her comm twice, knowing that he would hear the clicks of understanding.

On the fifth flight of stairs, her legs started to cramp from the lack of oxygen. She tried to push through the pain, but a few steps later, she automatically took a breath. Instantly, the burning pain in her chest forced her to start coughing, drawing even more of the irritant into her lungs. _Just keep moving,_ she thought to herself despite the fuzz over her thoughts, _left, right, left, right._ After what felt like an eternity, the darkness of the smoke gave way to the dim glow of one word in red. Exit.

With one arm, she pushed open the door, collapsing in the doorway, half in the building and half out. She still clutched the unconscious girl in her arms, a reminder that though she desperately wanted to give up and lay down here, she had to keep going. Her vision, was starting to clear, and she could see the edge of the building wasn't too far off in the distance. She shook her head, trying to focus her thoughts on the path forward. Slowly, she crawled forward enough that she could breath in more fresh air, and then she weakly attempted to stand upright.

The first time, she fell almost instantly. The second time, she stumbled forward a few steps before sliding onto her knees across the cement roof. She gasped, but the bursts of pain gave her just enough extra clarity that she was able to get to her feet once more. Though the building shook beneath her legs, she knew she could get to the edge before the structure fell. Using as much energy as she could muster, she lunged forward the last few steps and threw herself over the edge. As she fell through the air, she silently hoped someone would catch her as her lifeless wings failed to extend outward.

* * *

Hours later, she was finally back in her room after one very long day. She had spent much of her afternoon in the infirmary, with one of the nurses treating her wounds while she filled out a debrief form. Both her knees were wrapped in tight bandages, as was one of her wings, and there were a scattering of stitches over both of her arms from cuts she hadn't noticed. On top of all that, she had spent several hours hooked up to oxygen until she finally grew so agitated that J'onn let her leave. Overall, she was sore and very tired, but her prognosis was fine. Hopefully in a few days she would be as good as new.

Carefully, she peeled off her jeans noticing some purple and blue bruises that must've developed over the past few hours. Ugly, she thought, but nothing serious. She threw her hair, which was filled with ashes and dust, into a ponytail and then began struggling to maneuver the white cotton shirt over her wings. As she brushed the soft material against her bandages, she hissed at the slight pressure, but managed to remove the garment so she was standing in just her bralette and underwear when a heavy fist began pounding on the door.

"One second!" She called as she kicked her clothes under a chair. Quickly and quietly, she grabbed an old pair of rolled up sweats and pulled them on as she hopped precariously to the door. The pants hug low on her hips, but were loose and comfortable, burying her legs in volumes of soft folds. Most of the League had seen her in much less, so she barely thought anything of it as she threw open the door to her room.

John leaned against the doorway, dressed head to toe in black, and brushed past her the moment she opened the door. His eyes blazed emerald green, and his shoulders were pulled into a tense stance. His gaze took in the unmade bed, messy desk and open closet with a knowing eye, accepting that she hadn't changed a bit since the new Watchtower. He strode the length of the room as his booming voice demanded, "What the hell were you thinking out there?"

She sighed as she closed the door, "Oh, don't criticize me."

He turned back with the anger on his face shifting to rage, "You could have been killed."

Her humorless laugh brought him up short. He froze where he was as she watched a strange expression passed over her face and her eyes glistened ever slightly more. With a frustrated shake of her head, she contended, "We almost get killed every day. That's part of the job, and you don't have a right to be mad at me for it"

He took a step closer, "You could have been killed. You broke protocol."

"We all break protocol."

"Don't give me that line!" He threw his hands in the air.

She pushed her bangs back in frustrated as she yelled, "It was a kid, John! Tell me you would have done a single thing different! By the time back up got there, she would have been dead under a pile of rubble."

His voice got dangerously low, "Diana barely got there in time."

"I trusted her." Shayera glared at him, "Why can't you give me the same benefit?"

"Trust isn't the problem here." John took a step forward.

She followed suit and crossed her arms threateningly over her chest, "Then what is?"

The internal fight in his eyes was clear as John was silent for a moment. Shayera's breathe caught in her throat as she caught the familiar scent of his cologne and recognized the old sweater he wore. It had always been one of her favorites. He glanced down apprehensively at her short stature before admitting, "Do you know how lost we would all be without you? Flash? J'onn? How lost I…."

He glanced away as she took in the meaning of his unspoken words. _How lost I would be._ Her heart skipped a beat with more hope than she had experienced in months. The anger rolled off of her, replaced by a small smile as she slowly put a warm hand on his shoulder. "Hey," she reassured, "I'm right here. There's nothing to worry about."

"Until the next time one of us almost gets killed." John sighed.

"Right," She whispered, smile falling from her face, "Until then."

Her eyes fell to the floor, deep in thought. Both stood side by side, thinking carefully, barely moving or making a sound. Finally, John reached out hesitantly to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, but he left his palm resting on her neck. She leaned into the touch even as he said, "I should go."

"I know." She looked intensely into his eyes.

They stared at each other for another long moment, each considering the other cautiously. She had hurt him…but then he had hurt her too. Finally, he took a step forward, but instead of heading for the door, he closed the short space between them and pressed a warm kiss to her lips. She met him hungrily, leaping into his arms and wrapping her own around his neck. Before she knew it, his hands were on her waist, creeping slowly up her back. She felt him release the clasp of her bra, and she smiled into the kiss as she pulled him back towards the bed.

It wasn't until the next morning that it hit them what they had done.


	4. February 4th

She woke up the next morning alone.

At first, she was confused. Her groggy mind remembered the warm presence of a possessive arm tossed across her ribs, a hand rubbing warm circles on her hip. Lips had been pressed against her shoulder, and her mouth had been perked into a sleepy smile when it wasn't gasping in pleasure. Her whole body was encased in a sweet feelings of comfort and security. The strong body pressed against every crevice of her's would never allow any harm to come to her. She had been so certain.

She vividly remembered waking twice in the night, and their bodies had met once again where they left off. The contours of his face could be seen in the dim light given off by the innumerable stars. And for the first time in a long while, it was hope and adoration reflected in his bright green irises and not silent accusations. Their embrace had been so honest and careless, it had been like when they first found each other. When they had flirted, joked, smiled, and never second guessed themselves because everything was just so real and right.

Those days were still a breath of fresh air in her chaotic life.

Then, in the middle of the night, their hushed words had ignited a hope in her that she hadn't felt in months. The gentle touch of someone running their hands slowly through her hair had brought her out of a deep sleep. Her cheek had been pressed against John's chest, one of her legs thrown over his, and her hand rested over his strong chest. As she started to mumble the tired noises of someone being awoken, he took her hand in his and brought it up to his mouth for a chaste kiss. The movement brought a soft laugh from her, and she snuggled deeper into his side.

Feeling something on her pinky finger, he paused, "You're still wearing it."

He sounded in awe. Perhaps it was the correct response considering they had been apart for nearly three years. Realistically, she knew, she should have taken off the thin, plain gold band that still adorned her right hand. The ring had been a gift from when they were dating, but she couldn't find the strength in herself to let it go. It had been his grandmother's, and she knew he had always put great value on it.

But then so had she. She couldn't have just thrown it in a box or a drawer never to be seen from again. Wearing it had been a reminder that once he had loved her enough to give her a token that spoke a promise. _A promise of a future together._ So even when he hadn't returned her feelings and walked away from her - hell, even when she walked away from him - she couldn't take it off. It was an oath that he would always care for her, even when neither of their actions particularly showed those intentions well.

"My grandmother told me to give this to the woman I was going to marry."

"What?" She pushed off him just a little, so that she could look in his eyes. Her mouth hung open in surprise, but no words came out.

He chuckled a little at her speechless expression, "My grandfather gave it to her, and they loved each other more than any two people I've ever met. At some point, it just felt right to give it to you. When you're in the field, you never wear it, so I assumed that you just got rid of it. After all, we weren't exactly on speaking terms there for a while."

Shaking her head, she whispered brokenly, "No...I-I never wear it on duty because I'm afraid of destroying it. It's so...little...and valuable. I just never realized…."

He cut her off with a powerful kiss. Both of them had suddenly been lost in the soothing presence of the other, and they had fallen asleep once again tucked into a tight embrace. She had dozed off to the sound of his steady, reliable heartbeat with the hopeful expectation of what awaited her when she would open her eyes.

And then felt the immense loss when she awoke without him.

Shayera knew she wouldn't find anything, but she reached behind her nonetheless. Her hand felt the cold silk sheets that laid wrinkled against the bed. Her chest tightened as she rolled over, and her eyes confirmed what she already knew. Other than a few misplaced blankets, there was no sign John had ever been there. The shirt she had thrown on top of her desk was gone; his shoes picked up from opposite sides of the room.

Pressing her eyes closed, Shayera took a moment to compose herself before sitting up.

It was just another day like usual.

* * *

"Hey," John said with a smile as he approached the lovely woman sitting in the corner of a small French cafe. Dark glasses hid her eyes, but he would recognize her silhouette anywhere. Her slender elegant shoulders were always set back with a confidence and grace few others could match. The short cap of hair was styled carefully and precisely to frame her full, bright face. Everything about her was so meticulous and careful.

So unlike Shayera.

The dark haired beauty looked up from the menu and smiled widely at the man before her. Her pale blue dress and delicate pearls said more about her than words or expressions ever could. Clothes were always the way the model expressed her feelings, and today she was nervous but determined. It wasn't hard to see the connection between her appearance and their argument, which had left her shaky and uncertain.

Mari pushed her glasses up, and leaned forward flirtatiously as John took the seat opposite. Her hand immediately slid to meet his, her fingers gliding gently over the top of his palm. The relaxation which washed over him was effortless, and he found his hand wrapped tightly around her's without a thought. Quietly, she spoke, "I'm glad you came. I almost didn't think that you would show."

"I came to apologize." He said honestly.

"I'm the one who should apologize," She brushed him off, "You were right. I am pushing for New York too much. We're supposed to be doing this together, and I've never made a huge effort to see past my own agenda. There's plenty of time to look at places in Detroit and make a decision. Our decision, not mine."

"No," John played with the diamond ring on her finger as he spoke. His gaze never wavered from her's, "I'm holding onto Detroit because it's what's comfortable for me. But we're getting married, and now I have to think in terms of what is best for us. I'm done with being selfish."

"What are you saying?" She asked hopefully.

"I'm saying, the apartment on fifth - you know, the one with the view you love - it's perfect. I think we should put in an offer."

Her eyes sparkled joyfully as she asked, "Really?"

"Of course," He promised, "And our wedding isn't a mistake. It was just the heat of the moment and a really long day, so I hesitated. But this is what I want."

"You're sure?"

"Believe me," He said wholeheartedly, "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, and this isn't one of them."


	5. February 11th

Founders meeting that week was quiet. John had taken a couple of unexplained personal days, and Wally was off eagerly training new recruits. Shayera sat in near silence while the others discussed logistics of the coming weeks. Flash's absence was noted, but John's was brushed over. No one seemed to know why he was gone, but none of them wanted to push for details either. He had checked in - as long as he was alive, his taking some personal time was nothing serious. Honestly, the fact that any one of them was taking personal time was generally considered a victory.

Shayera was off active duty for a few days, as per J'onn's order. That meant her daily routine consisted of training, eating, and sleeping. Her days were filled with silence, partially because she hadn't reached out to any of the new recruits and partially because she was too anxious over what had happened with John. He was supposed to be getting married. He was supposed to be deeply in love, but that hadn't stopped him from spending the night with her.

She bit her lip at the thought.

The contradictions swirled in her mind as she hurried to the library on the upper floors. While the room was rarely used, Bruce had called her to translate some alien texts found on a recent mission. Although she found the work monotonous, Shayera secretly relished the fact that she was so useful when it came to language. She spoke several Earth dialects and a number of alien ones, not to mention the connections to other aliens she had if she didn't know the language. She practically skipped up the steps to the upper floors.

"Hey, Bruce. Sorry it took me so long-" She started as she opened the door. Her words came to an abrupt halt when she saw it wasn't Gotham's protector, but rather an oh-so-familiar Lantern. John Stewart was leaning casually against one of the large, mahogany tables that was pressed between the overwhelmingly tall shelves of books. His thoughtful eyes were lost in the labels and patterns, but she recognized the tension in his arms as she entered. Even if he didn't look up, he knew it was her. That stopped her short, "I thought I was meeting Batman."

"He owed me a favor." John shrugged as he finally looked up. His voice sounded weak, as if he had been fighting with himself all day but finally found his resolve. The stubble on his chin and the bags under his eyes confirmed the indecision and stress, but she knew as soon as they made eye contact what he had decided. It wasn't hard to guess John's actions regardless. He always followed through with his word, and she supposed his engagement would be no different.

She crossed her arms defensively, "Since when is meeting me a favor. You could have just called and asked."

He motioned at the room. One hand was laid gently on the dark wood, but she saw the way his hands shook as they flexed into fists and then relaxed again. He spoke carefully, "We needed privacy, and Bruce is never dishonest about his silence. No one comes up here. I figured it would be a ni-... a logical place to have this conversation."

Shayera took a few steps forward, just enough to catch a faint hint of his expensive cologne. The echoes of her heavy boots on the smooth, marble floors put them both on edge as the space between them narrowed. Her shoulders set back just an inch, but it was enough that he recognized her fear and worry. Even though he was right in front of her, Shayera felt like he was a million miles away, the icy atmosphere growing between them by the second. Finally, she took deep breath and spoke quietly, "So that's why you disappeared. I figured it wasn't a good sign."

"Shayera," He said gruffly, "We made an error in judgement."

"An error in judgement?" She repeatedly angrily, "That's the line you came up with?"

"Yes." He stepped forward with an air of danger. His emerald green eyes flared dangerously as they bore down into her own determined gaze. Everything in her wanted to lean into him, feel him wrap his arms around her, even though she knew it was wrong. Her feet held their stance, but he must have seen the desire in her eyes because a moment later, he sighed and stepped away from her.

He ran his hands over his head as he paced the room, "I'm getting married in a few months, Shayera. That means something."

She rolled her eyes, "The implication meaning that what happened between us means nothing."

He turned back to her, "Dammit! Don't do this! That night was just a bunch of pent up emotions for both of us. After we broke up, we barely spoke to one another. It was bound to happen sooner or later that we would fight or kiss or _something_ , but that doesn't mean we should be together. Most of the time we don't even like each other. Hell, no one will even schedule us for missions together because we practically rip each other's throats out!"

Shayera shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. Usually, her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail or braid, but she allowed her wavy locks to cover part of her face and fall onto the warm sweater she had wrapped tightly around her. Her lips puckered as tried not to cry, but John hardly seemed to notice. Looking off into the distance, he seemed lost in his own thoughts and was silent for a long while. They stood like that for a while, each quietly contemplating the mess in which they had found themselves.

Finally, over the uncomfortable silence which gave way only to the sounds of their own soft breaths, John asked, "What did that night mean to you?"

She gathered all of her pride and answered in the strongest voice she could manage, "It hardly matters, does it?"

"We should talk about this." John said stiffly as he looked down from across the library.

Shayera shook her head quickly, "No. It's not hard to recognize a brush off."

"We work together." He warned.

"And that's why you're here." She mocked, "Not because you care about closure, but because we work together. You think that if you don't say something, I'll tell your bride and ruin your perfect little upstate wedding. Tell me, John. Do you even love her?"

John's lips molded together in a secretive, angry way, "You don't get to ask me that."

"The hell I don't!" She shouted. Her voice quivered just a bit with emotion, but the anger coiled in her stomach drove her onward. Red streaks of hair flew past her face and against her will, her feet carried her across the room. She found herself beside him, though he still stood tall over her, as she spoke heatedly, "How dare you act like I am not involved in this! You cared about me once, and I want to know how you feel now. Before you make a choice that I can't force you to go back on…."

"I asked her to marry me! Doesn't that make it clear how I feel?" He yelled back.

She rose on her toes. The tip of her angry red nose so close to his face that he could see the bright freckles that danced over her complexion. Without a pause, she mocked, "John, you never act how you feel. You're always so caught up in what is right and acceptable that you barely take into account your own desires!"

"You hurt me!" His hands gripped around her arms tightly. As he spoke, he set her firmly away from him, and stepped away quickly, "This will never end well for us. I care for Mari! I _want_ to marry her! So now I'm here to beg if I have to. Don't tell Mari what happened between us because the most injured party wouldn't be me. It'll be her."

"Please," Shayera whispered brokenly as she planned nervously with the ends of her sleeves, "Just be honest with yourself. I've never stopped loving you, but if you can honestly tell me that you love her, I'll let you go. I won't say a word to her about what happened between us, and you'll never have to worry about me again. But if you don't feel that way, say something."

"Of course I'm in love." He muttered angrily.

Shayera jumped back as if he had struck her. It took every fiber of his being not to comfort her when he saw the color drain from her face like she was going to be ill. Her brows rose in shock, and her mouth fell open just a bit as she took a pained breath. Her lashes fluttered as she tried to hide the tears that came to her eyes, and she let out an unintentional, "Oh."

"Look, it's nothing personal-" He began.

That made her laugh a dry, humorous laugh, "Not personal. Wow. Thanks for that."

He shook his head, "You know that's not what I meant."

"Oh, I know exactly what you meant!" She said as she spun away from him. Before he had a chance to process anything, she was halfway out the door with the words casually thrown over her shoulder, "Go to hell!"

The wedding invitations went out the next day.


	6. March 21st

It was just a few weeks later that John heard the news. He had just finished a shift of monitor duty, and was getting ready to meet up with Mari to finalize their menu with the caterer. To be honest, he was a little overwhelmed with the whole wedding ordeal, but luckily, Mari was passionate about planning everything herself and consulted him for opinions only sporadically. Kara had taken off a little early, and John simply had to wait for Wally to come rushing in just seconds before his shift was supposed to start. For some reason, the world's fastest man had the most problems of anyone in the League with being on time. That day was different, however, as Wally strode 20 minutes early and out of uniform.

"Hey," The young speedster said anxiously, "Have you talked to Shayera lately?"

John tensed for a moment, but tried to appear nonchalant as he continued checking the screens and filling out the case report before him. In the most dispassionate manner he could manage, he answered, "I've been planning a wedding, Wally. I haven't had time to talk to anyone."

"Maybe you should." Wally said thoughtfully.

"Why's that?" John snapped.

The young hero scratched his scarlet hair nervously as he answered, "Because I just came from talking to her. She put in her resignation to the League this morning, and nothing I'm doing is helping her see reason."

"What?" John shouted as he turned around so fast his head spun.

Wally was standing before John, face ashen and shocked. The young man crossed his arms and leaned against the metal doorway while shaking his head. He continued on with a distant voice, "I went by a couple of hours ago to catch lunch with her, and she had half of her room boxed up. I swear, man, she won't listen to a word I say. Just keeps going on about needing to move on. Nothing I'm doing is even getting her to _budge_!"

John nodded, "And you want me to talk to her."

Wally strolled over and dropped into the chair beside John. Spinning around a few times to distract himself, Wally admitted, "GL, you always understand her better than the rest of us. There has to be something you can say to her."

"We both know that ship has sailed." John said under his breath.

Wally rolled his eyes and plopped his feet on the keyboard. Leaning back in the chair far more than was safe, the young man looked at the ceiling and pondered aloud, "Dear god. You are two of the most stubborn people I've ever met. Does this ever get easier?"

"Fine." The Lantern said harshly, "You want me to talk to her? I'll talk to her."

He stood up angrily and walked quickly from the room. Wally continued to look at the ceiling, but raised his eyebrows at the slightly too loud taps of John's boots against the hallway tiles. The hero could see the bright flashes of the computer monitors against the cool gray of the smooth steel overhead. Eventually, the man muttered to the empty space before him, "Why are my friends so goddamn blind?"

* * *

"So that's it? You're just quitting?" John's voice held a cynicism that he didn't know he had until the words were already out of his mouth. From where he leaned against her doorway, he could see the various boxes and bags which were spread throughout her room, some closed and labeled and others half full of clothes, books, and other trinkets. The woman in question was bent over the desk, clearing papers off of her desk. At the sound of his voice, she looked up with sad eyes.

She sighed quietly before answering, "It's the only logical path forward."

He shook his head, "That's bullshit."

"And how is that?" She asked as she dumped the pile in a box with more force than was necessary. When she turned to face him again, one hand was on her hip while the other swung through the air. It was something she always did when she was frustrated, John had noticed. With a glint of pain in her eyes, she continued, "You're getting married, and I can't just hang around here while we both know that I have feelings for you. It's time I moved on."

"You do good work here." He stepped into her room and closed the door quickly.

"Damn straight I do. But I'm supposed to have my own life to live with friends or at least someone to talk to that doesn't hate me. How many people here outside of the Founders actually like me?"

She looked at him expectantly, and he answered the first thing that came to his mind, "You've never cared what people thought of you before."

Wrong words. Her eyes narrowed and her other hand came down to her hip as well. Now _that_ she only did when she was about to make someone regret being born. John took a deep breath and held up his hands defensively, "Okay, that's not what I meant. First of all, plenty of people here care about you. Secondly, why can't I marry Mari and we just go back to coexisting like we've done for months. We're totally capable of that."

"Maybe I was before." She shook her head, "But not now."

"Why?" His exasperation was apparent.

She raised one eyebrow, but turned to go back to her packing. Her gaze remained on her work and she asked quietly, "Isn't that obvious?"

"If there's one thing you're good at, it's hiding your emotions." It came out snippier than he intended.

"Oh my god! Get over it!" She threw the book in her hand towards him. There was no time to dodge it; not that it mattered as in the blink of an eye, it slammed into the wall next to time. The pages of the novel fluttered through the air before they bent at unnatural angles when they hit the floor. _Luckily, she didn't actually want to hit me,_ he thought wearily. _She never misses her targets._ In his surprise, it took him a moment to realize she was still yelling at him, "Yes, I lied to you and then I left. But I was trying to deal with losing my family, my job, my friends' trust, _everything_! You panicked because you got into a fight with your girlfriend and then came running back to me after leaving me on the hook for months! Call it even!"

"So you're running again?" He demanded, "You were always like this!"

"Maybe I was." She finally whispered at a long while. Thought her face remained void of emotions, there was something about her voice that held a sadness and acceptance. Her gaze never wavered from his, though he could see the pain in her emerald eyes, "But am I wrong?"

"You belong here." He said firmly.

"Not anymore." She said even more surely, "And you need to let me go."

He swallowed hard. Even as he shook his head, he knew that fighting with her was useless. Once she had her mind set on something - really set - there was nothing anyone could do to stop her. She watched him intently for several moments as he paced the length of her room, but she made no move to continue her work.

After quite a while, he sat down on the edge of her bed and looked up at her with tired eyes. Quietly, he asked, "Where will you go?"

"I have a few places in mind." She said as she opened a drawer in her desk to continue packing. He mechanically handed her an empty box which she took solemnly and began to place some of her scrolls into. When she spoke again, she had a small smile glued to her pale face, "You know me. I always land on my toes."

"Feet, Shayera. You land on your feet." He corrected dully.

"Exactly." She responded.


	7. June 14th (Continued)

The wedding music quietly leaked beneath the oak doors and floated into the small dressing room down the hall from the chapel. Family and friends chatted happily as they meandered through the old, wooden arteries of the church and slowly found their way to their seats in the beautifully decorated sanctuary. Each and every decoration was meticulously chosen and placed to give the proper aura to the whole affair. Cream and white rose bundles with a dashes of golden paint skimming the petals' edges were pinned to the sides of the pews while lace and silk ribbons were hung from the banners. Small wind chimes hung in the open windows and their soft clinks entwined with the organist's melody.

But further down the hall, John Stewart stood stiffly in his suit, contemplating the coming moments. In less than an hour, the ceremony would be over. In less than an hour, his future would begin with his wife - Mari.

Yet, as he stood there, staring at his grey jacket with the dark, marbled buttons that his fiancee loved, it wasn't Mari that he wanted to spend his life with. It was Shayera. God, it was always Shayera. It was her that made him angrier than he could ever remember being, but it was also her that made him jump in front of bombs and dive bomb a hundred stories in order to stop her from hitting the ground. He couldn't imagine not seeing her at the end of the isle or waking up with her each day. _This isn't about what you need,_ he reminded himself. _You made a promise and you have to keep it. Mari deserves better than this. She deserves for you to do the right thing._

 _But what about what Shayera deserves?_ A voice mocked in his head.

The creak of the oak door pulling at its hinges yanked him from the reverie.

John turned in surprise as a certain red headed hero who was somehow not hungover from the night before entered the room. Wally's hair was patted carefully down, probably by one of Mari's many cousins, and he had somehow managed to free himself of bright spandex for long enough to squeeze into a suit. Honestly, he would look charming if he wasn't clearly annoyed with the predicament.

Wally met John's eyes and asked him cautiously, "You sure you don't want to run?"

John shook his head, "Are they ready in the other room?"

Wally nodded solemnly, "Yeah. The organist has started, so you should probably get in there soon if this is what you want."

"It is." John said with assurance.

Wally raised his brows in doubt, but turned to go. He grasped the doorknob firmly as he said simply, "I'll see you in there then."

"See you." John whispered as his friend disappeared.

The door closed behind Wally, but John continued to stare outside the window. Mountains spread out in the distance, rising proudly in the warm summer sun. The meadows around the grounds were filled with small flowers and bright, fluttering butterflies. Hell, even the smell was sweet and joyful. A day couldn't get anymore perfect than the one before him. With a heavy heart, John turned and strode out of the room, filled with determination that he was doing the right thing.

* * *

"Watchtower, this is Atom. Are you picking up anything unusual?" A deep voice called out from the computer, pulling Shayera's attention away from her thoughts. Quickly, she pulled up the specs on anything and everything accessible to her, but it all was reading normal. From the radio waves, to the Earth's magnetic field, all the measurements she was reading were well within normal range. She squinted and leaned forward slightly, trying to find anything that seemed just a bit off, but nothing stood out.

Finally, she pressed on the response button and spoke, "Atom, this is Watchtower. Everything is reading as normal. What's your concern?"

There was a long pause as Shayera listened intently for his reply. Static muffled any background sounds for a few minutes, and Shayera unintentionally moved closer to the edge of her seat. Just as she was about to press the call button and repeat herself, Atom's voice broke the tense silence once more, "There's nothing particular, but there's just a feeling out here. It's like something is watching us."

"I'm calling in backup." Shayera said immediately as a pit formed in her stomach. The readings may seem normal, but that hardly meant nothing was wrong. Dozens of such instances flashed through her mind of major incidents that had followed mere "feelings". Not to mention that if there were a perfect time to attack the League, when they were down so many of their strongest members like now would be the perfect chance. Her hands danced over the keys automatically, knowing exactly who she wanted and where she wanted them at. Pings echoed off the walls as commands shot across the Watchtower and even to a few heroes on Earth who happened to be on call.

Atom's resistance was clear in his voice, "But what if we're wr-"

"Then it won't matter." Shayera cut him off, "But I don't think you are."

Other names began to flash across the board as heroes checked in for duty. They were all waiting for their coordinates, and Shayera immediately began calling out details for teleportation to the Watchtower. Those who could travel on their own would, but for most, it was easier to be brought in. As she worked quickly, Dr. Fate approached behind her.

"There seems to be quite a panic." He observed.

She nodded, but continued to type quickly. Already, the Watchtower's noise was starting to slowly crescendo as League members hurried to their stations. Fate looked around intently, showing little concern, although his expressions were generally pretty unreadable. Looking back at Shayera, he noted the same thoughts as Atom, "This could be nothing."

At that exact moment, a loud explosion could be heard throughout the Watchtower. The entire entity shook with the force of the blast while dust and debris filled the Monitor Bay. Shayera was thrown from her seat, but managed to move her arms fast enough that she rolled before landing on her feet. The screens flickered for a moment before alerts began pouring in as systems went into emergency lock down. Making eye contact with Fate, she muttered drily, "I'm pretty sure it isn't nothing."

"What was it?" He yelled as sirens began to go off throughout the Tower.

"I don't know, but it looks like we're under attack." She said as she rushed back to her chair. Verifying the coordinates for the last few arrivals before running another diagnostic check, she worked quickly. Bright reds and yellows colored the screens, drawing attention to a plethora of problems, but one caused Shayera's heart to stop, "We're losing air pressure in some of the lower levels."

"The building will take care of itself." Fate said as he looked over her shoulder, "But we're needed on the upper floors!"

Shayera shook her head, "The manual locks should have already activated! We need to do it manually."

"I'll go." He said as he turned to leave.

"No. She said as she ran past him, her hair whipping by her face, "You're right, you're needed on the top floors. I've got to do it."

He nodded as they split paths. Lights flashed around the tower, creating a haunting and alarming effect, while the clicks of boots on the metal floors echoed through the structure. Before she knew it, Fate was flying through the air, off to see what kind of fight the others were caught in while Shayera let herself free fall down one of the elevator shafts, careful to not let herself fall into the vacuum of space. Wires and bolts whizzed past her until she was more than twenty floors down, and she let her wings catch herself.

When she opened the doors to the level she needed, she found a barren, abandoned hallway. Sirens continued to squeal in her ear, and she found feel the oxygen being slowly sucked out of the air. Knowing she had to isolate the leak before the whole Watchtower started experiencing catastrophic problems, she ran down the cavern, searching for the lower level technical room. Batman had talked her through situations like this before, but it had been ages ago and both of them had hoped they would never actually need to do this. Room after room passed by, but finally, Shayera found the one she needed.

She kicked in the door with hardly a thought, and grabbed the USB she kept in her back pocket whenever she was on duty. Machines and computers were buzzing in panic, and lights flickered in warning of oxygen loss. She herself could feel her lungs complaining about the lack of clean air, but she knew she had a few minutes before it was anything severe. Quickly, she found the monitor she needed and inserted the USB without a second thought. Her fingers flew over the keys, and she tracked the progress of her program quietly.

Yet, nothing responded. It was as if she weren't doing anything.

Touching her comm link quickly, she called out to Fate, "Fate this is Shayera! How much damage was sustained throughout the middle portion of the Tower?"

He called back a moment later, "Next to nothing. Why?"

Shayera shook her head angrily and jumped back from the computer like it might reach out and choke her. Automatically, she reached for the oxygen suppliers that Bruce had stored in every room like this throughout the Tower. As she began to unpack the equipment, she muttered back to Fate, "The communication systems appear to be reliable, but the lower level preservation programs are malfunctioning. I'm not sure how far the program defects have spread, but you'll need to manually override the survival programs and cut off access below the 35th floor."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Atom's voice asked.

With a heavy click, Shayera secured the oxygen pack to her belt and called back, "It means we've been hacked!"

"Where are you?" Fate asked, sounding out of breath.

Shayera hurried back into the hall and responded, "I'm on my way up. Give everyone a three minute evacuation warning and then do what you have to!"

"Understood." Fate and Atom said at the same time.

A second explosion suddenly came from the bottom floors, and Shayera dove into the nearest room. Like she expected, a spiral of flames shot up the elevator shaft and hot currents speed through the hallways. _But how had she known that would happen?_ Heat licked across Shayera's wings, but she found shelter just in time. The fire system didn't respond, and that's when it all clicked for the heroine. Why she felt like she had done this all before. Why she knew the second explosion would come from the elevator shaft. _The catastrophic loss of function reports._ Someone had found their plans for the worst that the Watchtower could handle and was following the exact schematics that _she had helped make_. The color drained from Shayera's face as she realized there was no way she was going to make it to the 35th floor in time.

Because the only way to stop all of this was to descend deeper into the Tower.


	8. March 17th

Sweat dotted Shayera's forehead as she punched the sand bag hanging from the ceiling in steady, rhythmic increments. _Right. Left. Right. Left._ It took great effort not to picture all the faces she wanted to pummel on the black, leathery material and to instead simply let her emotions flow mindlessly. There was a very real possibility that if she allowed herself to visualize the objects of her anger, she might actually go hunt them down when she was finished. Tempting as a possibility that may be, she was still experiencing the clarity that could only come from making a major life decision, and knew that she couldn't allow that kind of violence today. So, rather than follow her desires, she continued beating the bag into oblivion. As she did so, the muscles in her back and arms screamed in protest, but her body was still too full of anger and frustration to stop. Overhead, her rap music pounded through the speakers, shaking the walls slightly with the powerful, rage driven lyrics over quick, rough beats. Somehow, the heavy emotions of the singer offered her a strangely therapeutic reprieve. Almost like the existence of another person who was struggling somehow made her decision more bearable. Again, she hit the bag, the chains overhead quivering and almost breaking.

It was the sudden opening of the heavy metal doors which caused her to pause. Cool air poured in, pulling Shayera from the hot, most would say stifling, temperature she liked to keep the room at. Meanwhile, the sound barely made its way over the blasting music, and Shayera probably wouldn't have heard it had she not been waiting for it. Usually, it was rare to see another person in the Founders gym, the seven of them were so busy and most of them preferred the main gym with everyone else, but Shayera had asked Bruce to meet her here today. Quickly, she grabbed tapped her glove against smart watch, which controlled the systems in the room, and the music suddenly cut off to be replaced by deafening silence.

Her ears were still ringing a bit when a dark voice called from the other side of the room, "You asked to see me?"

Wiping the perspiration from the back of her neck, Shayera peered around the punching bag while leaning into it. She allowed the bag to hold a majority of her weight so that she could look at the brooding figure that had just strode into the gym liked he owned the place. Technically, she guessed, he did own the place, but that was beside the point. Bruce was dressed in his full Batman attire, but after scanning the entirety of the room, he pushed off his mask to reveal his annoyed expression. There was no point in hiding his identity around her. His dark blue eyes glowered with tension when they finally returned to her, and his jaw was pulled into his typical frowning expression.

Breathing heavily, Shayera said, "I have something important I need to talk to you about."

The hero rolled his eyes, "It couldn't wait for a better time. Perhaps when you've calmed down."

"No." She shook her head, and then stood up straight. With her teeth, she began to pull the tape from around her gloves, wanting to be free from the constraining items while she talked. Once she loosened one side, she looked back up and explained, "I'm in need of a new identity. One that will allow me to live and work on Earth without being questioned."

Bruce's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He immediately crossed his arms, but rather than question her directly, he asked, "Don't you think the wings will give you away?"

Tossing one glove, and then the other roughly into a basket at the edge of the room, she shook her head, "I've already talked to Fate about a device to cloak their existence. He should have something ready within the week, but I have none of the proper documentation needed to hold an apartment let alone a job. I'm not even sure what all I need, but I figured you were the person to talk to."

"Is this…purely recreational?" He asked carefully.

Shayera put one hand on her hip, still breathing heavily. Her emerald eyes closed as if in pain, but when she finally spoke to him, determination shown in her eyes, "No. I've come to the conclusion that it's best for everyone if I leave the League."

Her friend was silent for several moments, glowering at her as he considered his next move. Eventually, rather than speak, he walked slowly to one of the benches that lined the room and sat down. She followed, sitting beside him and allowing her head to fall against the cool wall behind her. It didn't take a genius to see that he was angry, but she also knew that he was no better than emotions than she was. Words were difficult to find for him, and she had plenty of concerns to occupy her mind while he prepared himself. There was the issue of finding a city, an apartment, a job. She had never had to function in everyday Earthen life, and the thought of the journey she was embarking upon was overwhelming.

"I know that you've had a hard few weeks." Bruce's awkward voice cut through her thoughts, "But these things pass fairly quickly. You can move on, find someone new."

"Like you have?" She countered, "Come on, Bruce. You've been moping around here for weeks. There's not a part of you that wishes Diana would disappear or that you could leave?"

"This League is my life. She's good at what she does."

"That's not an answer." Shayera snapped.

"You don't get an answer." He growled back.

She flashed him a warning look, and his lips puckered back into an angry line. His gaze remained fixed forward on the beautiful view of the sun against the dark nothingness of space. Rays of light burst forth in startling arrays of power, but Bruce seemed to take none of it in, rather contemplating the troublesome predicament in which he had found himself. There was nothing he hated more than a problem he couldn't solve with his fists. Or maybe he was still thinking about the woman he had let go. After all, it was no secret that he had been full of anger for weeks.

For a moment, Shayera felt guilty. Yes, Bruce could be a total and complete dick, but he had cared for Diana deeply. Those who recognized the signs even could speculate that he loved her, but like Shayera, he was a broken person. Whatever his reason for ending things with Diana, Shayera knew it was a sensitive topic. He had never truly felt he deserved her, but he adored her nonetheless. Taking a deep breath, she asked instead, "If I told you that I really wasn't leaving for my own benefit, that it was what the League needed, would you help me then?"

Bruce slumped against the wall, "You would be wrong."

"You don't have all the relevant facts." She muttered ominously.

Inhaling sharping, he asked quickly, "What does that mean?"

Laughing sadly, Shayera spoke, "He cheated on her. John cheated on Mari, and if I told her that would be the end of it."

She looked at the man beside, honestly shining in her eyes, "He said it was… _an error in judgement_ , but we both know that with me here, it's just going to keep going in circles. I love him, but he loves her. She loves him, but she's always worried about me. You care about nothing more than the success of this League, so tell me how the three of us can possibly help that. If I stay, there are two options. Either I tell her what happened and they blow up, losing you two members at the least, or I say nothing. But we both know that things will grow more tense until one day I'll snap and it'll be an even bigger catastrophe."

Bruce nodded slowly, "So your solution is to leave."

Now it was Shayera's turn to look away. She bit her lip before she responded, "You're right. It's time I moved on, but I can't do that here. There's too much history between the three of us, and I can't be caught in the middle of it anymore. Maybe if I find something new - someplace new - I can leave it all behind." She looked back at her friend, "They get married, and you get to keep the harmonious League you've always wanted."

"You should be here too." He said tersely.

"Bruce." She said honestly, "Don't make me a martyr. This is what I want."

His eyes met her earnest gaze. For several moments, they sat in silence. It wasn't strained, angry, or even disappointed, but a solemn moment where two suffering people could just be together for a moment. Neither questioned the other any further, or reached out to the other, but they found some comfort in just being. She had lost John; he had lost Diana. Finally, it was Bruce who broke the silence with a quiet admission, "I hate having to look at her every day. If I could leave, I would."

She nodded, but waited.

After clearing his throat, he told her simply, "I think you would like Seattle."

It wasn't hard to hear the message in his words. _It's a city that's far away from New York._

She looked at him knowingly, "Thank you."


	9. April 26th

Hey everyone! Sorry I've been gone for a while. My work has been crazy lately, but I'm hoping to be a little more present in the coming weeks. Updates probably won't be super consistant, but I'm determined to make some serious progress on this story before summer! The next chapter is almost done, so that will be coming soon, and then I need to update Control, Alt, Delete. Feel free to R&R because I love to hear from you! Until next time. -Mae

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Living in the city was different than the Watchtower. Before, Shayera had grown accustomed to long periods of silence, as there was plenty of space and soundproof walls, not to mention the constant stream of missions that drew people away. That's not to say it was lonely necessarily, but it was often quiet. The city, however, was a near constant source of noise, which even at night kept a steady hum of voices and cars, slowly crescendoing each morning. The lights, as well, distracted her constantly, even in the dead of night as they flashed through the gap in her curtains. The city was always busy and always moving, never stopping for even a second to sleep. But what was most unusual was the way in which everyone seemed to share a space and way of thinking without knowing each other or speaking. In the mornings, she was constantly confused by the way everyone followed each other to walk in an efficient manner while staring at their phones or reading the morning paper. And the "slang," as Bruce had categorized it, still made no sense to her. Every coffeeshop and area of the city seemed to have a nickname to signify characteristics that still had no meaning for her.

Yet, she found she liked the challenges.

Her job, for one, was enjoyable. Bruce had arranged for her to consult at a security firm in the city, checking businesses for flaws and preventing break ins both by humans and other creatures roaming the galaxy. She often had to smile at the fact that her clients didn't know they were welcoming in one of the very people they were paying to keep out. Nonetheless, her co-workers were clever and competent, and Shayera found herself happy at the end of most days. It wasn't completely unlike her work with the League, although there were significantly fewer near death experiences. Her neighborhood was also a nice place, and she often spent the afternoons and evenings exploring her new surroundings. Thus far, she had managed to meet a few people who didn't instantly bore her and a few places which she liked to frequent, mostly parks and small restaurants but it was a start.

It was the nights that were difficult. Dreams haunted her sleep, whether they be of one of her teammates dying a gruesome death or John moving on with his life. She could practically see him walking down the aisle to Mari. Of course, they would soon get married, have kids, live one of the perfect lives that she had always heard about in the many human movies she had watched. She didn't know what hurt worse, the fact that he was living his life without her or that he always seemed to find such joy in it.

Not that she could really blame him for wanting to be happy.

But it stung anyway. Not only had John moved on, but the rest of the League was continuing without her. Sure, she got updates fairly often from Bruce who still wanted to peruse her mind for her military knowledge. And Clark kept in touch via text and social media (which Shayera still didn't understand fully). The others kept in touch intermittently as well, sending a message here or a writing a postcard there. Yet, it hurt knowing that everyone she had cared about over the previous few years was living their lives without her, doing what she loved.

The hardest part was knowing that even if she wanted to maintain the relationships she had, she couldn't. At least not as they had been.

On this particular morning, Shayera found herself following her typical morning routine. She had just gotten back from a short run through the park near her apartment and was preparing her breakfast while the early morning sun shown through her windows. It's brightness hurt her eyes a bit, but she liked the feeling of its warmth on her skin and the sense of freshness that came with it each morning. The smell of coffee grounds still had the ability to put a smile on her face while the smell of anything else…didn't. As she poured the grounds into the machine and turned it on, her phone laid beside her on the countertop on speaker phone. A small smile graced her lips as she spoke to her friend, "No Wally. I told you, I can't just come by the Watchtower for a little while. I have a life now. I'm trying to move on."

"Life is overrated." Wally teased, "But I'm awesome."

"You have an overinflated sense of self worth." She said as she picked up the device and carried it over to her kitchen table.

As they continued their playful banter, she turned the TV on in the background, although on mute. It was important in her job to keep up with current events, and it would also give her a distraction until her coffee was ready. She leaned back in her chair, thrusting her bare feet onto the seat next to her, as Wally responded with, "You hurt my feelings, Shay. I am your best friend after all."

"Yes, but you seem to misunderstand the word space." She said seriously, "I've barely been gone a month."

Wally's voice dropped to match her tone, "I know, and in that time, John has been insufferable."

He was baiting her, Shayera knew that. But despite that recognition, she found herself asking, "…how so?"

Wally scoffed, "Really, Shay? You know how he is. He puts on a good show for all the wedding stuff - trying on the suits, giving a neutral opinion for the venue, going through the motions as is expected. But he's quiet and broody. His smile isn't real, and sometimes you can just tell that when he comes into meetings he's looking for _you_."

Shayera was quiet for several moments, watching the headlines roll by the screen but not taking in any of them. Her mind could picture exactly what Wally was saying. She had seen enough of John's attitudes to be able to visualize it down to how his brow could furrow in frustration when he couldn't find what he wanted. Other times, his gaze would turn downwards during briefings and meetings, and she could see the thoughts passing over his brilliant green eyes. Of course, he would always deflect questions and concerns, but those closest to him would know. _She_ would know.

After a few moments, she inhaled sharply and asked her friend, "Wally, what exactly is it you want me to do?"

His response was instantaneous, "Come back. You belong here."

Except she didn't. If she was going to be honest with herself, she hadn't truly felt like she belonged since the invasion, but she wanted it to be true. Her life had been on the Watchtower for years. She had felt more at home there than she had ever been on Thanagar.

Slowly she reached across the table for the small piece of paper she had laid there the day before and slid it across the smooth surface. Her home didn't have any magnets, so she hadn't hung the picture up yet, but she also hadn't wanted to put it in a drawer. She had been too excited and happy for the first time in weeks to simply put away the momento. Instead, she had left it lying on the table so that she could walk past it throughout the day and smile. Human technology really was lacking in some areas, but against the black and white shapes, she could make out the shape of a child. Twelve weeks, that's what the doctor had said, which she could have counted for herself to be honest, but it had still been a shock to hear it aloud. It wouldn't be long now before she began to show, before she had to prepare, before her life got turned upside down by this new person. Perhaps John wanted her there, maybe even needed her in some kind of strange way, but she couldn't go back.

"I'm sorry, Wally. I just can't." She said slowly as she stared at the photo, "This is how it is now."

"But he's wrong, you know." Wally argued, "He'll come around."

She shook her head even though she knew he couldn't see her, and when she spoke, it had an air of finality, "No he won't. And even if he didn't, it wouldn't matter."

It didn't take a genius to know he was raising his eyebrows as he answered, "Now who's being dishonest?"

"Goodbye Wally." She said quickly.

His voice responded before she could disconnect the call, "Talk to you soon, Shay."

Shayera sat there for several moments trying to convince herself that Wally was wrong. Deep down, she knew that if John changed his mind, there was a very good possibility that she would go running back to him. It didn't matter that he had hurt her, that he loved another woman, hell, that he was marrying another woman. What was the human saying? _The heart wants what it wants?_ So she stared at the photo a little longer, reminding herself why she was doing this. This was for her child. She couldn't go back. _This was for her child._


	10. April 28th

Shayera hurried across the rain drenched streets of Seattle to try and get back to her apartment before she was completely soaked. The fabric of her tennis shoes was already drenched, as were the bottoms of her jeans, but her cotton sweater, still wrapped around her tightly, was somewhat dry. While she was growing to enjoy this city, her work, nearly everything about her new life, the rain was something to which she couldn't quite adjust. At times she adored it, and at other times, she didn't think she could stand it for another moment. Much like her relationship with John, she supposed. Maybe she was cursed to always love things that were bad for her.

Pushing that thought aside, she tapped her foot eagerly as she waited for the crossing light to change once more. She was only one street away from being home, and at that point, her hair had begun sticking to her face in long, wet strands. She cursed the fact that she had chosen today to forget her umbrella, but considering the Seattle weather, almost any day she forgot her umbrella would have ended the same way. A mixture of annoyance and anger began to build in her chest, but the light quickly turned and she dashed across the street. Other citizens glanced her way in surprise, but she ignored the looks and walked quickly towards her apartment building while trying to weave in and out of the masses of people. However, as she approached the tall tower where Bruce had helped her find an apartment, a new annoyance made itself known. Or should she say old annoyance?

Standing outside the entrance to her building under a sleek, black umbrella, stood John Stewart. Even with the large overcoat, dark glasses, and downward turned face, she would recognize him anywhere. Immediately, as if he had sensed her, his cloaked eyes found her and he walked towards her, umbrella outstretched.

Prideful as she may be, she ducked under the protection it offered, bringing her much too close to the Lantern. The only barrier to his chest against her's was her arms, which were tightly wound around her body, and the thick material of his coat. Despite that, she could still feel the heat that he always seemed to radiate and found herself subconsciously leaning into him. Yet, when she spoke, her voice was full of frustration, "What the hell are you doing here? You can't just show up at my house!"

"Technically," He had to look down at her, "It's an apartment. And I wasn't aware that your address was secret."

"Well, I wasn't advertising it." She tossed back.

"You don't have to advertise when you have friends in our line of work. We're noisy."

Rather than answer, she muttered indignantly, "Answer the question - what are you doing here?"

"Not here." He shook his head as he looked around the crowded street. Civilians weaved in and out of the streets as they all rushed home after a long day of work. Shayera's gaze followed his own and she laughed humorlessly as she finally understood he wanted her to invite him inside. She hesitated for a few moments, not wanting him to see where she lived, but finally, she nodded in acquiescence rather than continue to stand in the cold. Silently, she led him past the stoic doorman and into an elaborately decorated lobby.

John's brows raised in surprise. Everything in the place reeked of money and hardly seemed Shayera's taste. Still, he didn't comment as she led him to an elevator in the back of the room and pressed a code quickly into the keypad.

They stood in tense silence for several minutes as he followed her onto the elevator, stood beside her while stereotypically sweet music played at a low volume, then down a long hall with only a few doors. At the end of the passage lined with pleasant landscapes and quaint pieces of antique furniture, a dark wooden door with the name "Monroe" engraved on a wooden plaque stood alone. Shayera glanced at John nervously as she unlocked it and slipped within the warm confines of her home. John followed quickly, afraid that if he paused she would lock him out. He certainly wasn't expecting such a cold reaction, but he guessed it wasn't uncalled for.

As soon as he closed the door behind him, he heard her call from the other room, "So, what brought you to town?"

While she hurried into the kitchen, probably to tidy up, he placed his umbrella by the door and turned toward the sound of her voice. Instantly, he was astonished by the large, welcoming space before him, which he never could have pictured as a place Shayera would have chosen to live. The entryway lead to an open living room with soft grey and white furniture, plush carpets, and golden lights which illuminated the room against the cloudy, charcoal skies outside. His shoes sounded heavy against the wooden floors which covered the space and led to the modern, sleek kitchen. On the other side of the island countertop, Shayera was pulling her woolen sweater off herself, to stand in a tight, black tank top. She pressed the material against her dripping hair as she turned back to him. Rolling her eyes as she noticed his stare, she repeated herself, "What brought you to town?"

"Um," He paused as he strode toward her, "I guess I just needed someone to talk to."

She raised a brow skeptically, "And you thought of me?"

He shrugged, "Well, I haven't seen your new place yet."

Shayera waited for several beats before she pushed, "And?"

"And…" He met her gaze as he leaned against the counter opposite her. His eyes roamed over her black top which hugged her slim physique and her deep blue jeans, splattered with dark, rain soaked blotches. Like she always did when she was nervous, she held her weight on one foot while allowing her other toes to skim back and forth across the smooth floor. They moved slowly, before tapping as she began to lose her patience. Finally, he finished with, "And everyone in the Watchtower is driving me crazy."

"Seriously?" She scoffed, "Everyone?"

"Everyone." He confirmed, "They're all caught up in the excitement of...well, you know."

"Oh." She came up short.

They stood tensely for several minutes. The rain pattered gently against the glass that covered one whole side of the apartment, and the sound filled the space between them. Shayera looked down at the floor, continuing to brush the pads of her toes carefully back and forth at a soothing pace. John, however, gazed at her longingly, feeling as if he had never crossed the thousands of miles between them.

Finally, he asked, "Do you like your new job?"

She chuckled, but answered simply, "It's not as exciting nor the company as good, but the people are smart and the jobs are challenging."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiled slightly, "I work for a security place. We analyze different places for flaws in their system and give recommendations on what they can do to improve. Last week, they let me try to break into a top of the line vault that's supposed to be impregnable. Turns out, they need to get their money back. Only took me an hour."

"Wow. That's damn impressive."

"Thanks." She said quietly, "Would have been more interesting if they'd have actually put their valuables inside."

He chuckled, "How rude of them."

"And…your work? How's that going?"

"Same as always. Diana blocks off attacks with her shiny wrist guards, Flash runs around a lot, Clark pushes things much harder than necessary, while Batman broods in the corner." He grinned.

Sure enough, she laughed at the way he so easily characterized their friends, "And J'onn? Still silent as ever?"

"Oh, no! You didn't hear? He's taken to public speaking!" John joked, "Completely changed man."

She smiled, "Has everyone been busy?"

"Same things as always." John shrugged, "We've been taking on more intergalactic missions, so we've been away a lot. It's been nice, getting a chance to get away from Flash and all of his-"

"Flirting with Fire?" Shayera laugh echoed through the room.

"Flirting with everyone!" John exclaimed.

"It seems like you have too much free time." She observed.

John's eyes gleamed flirtatiously, "On the contrary. Just last week I had to go all the way back to Oa just to be part of a team to track and break down an arms smuggling ring that has been providing weapons in some of the worst armed conflicts we've seen in decades. Worked with the Lanterns for a few days, and then I was right back on here trying to stop a satellite from crashing out of orbit into Tokyo. Now that was a complicated escapade."

Shayera leaned back against the countertop, her cheeks a warm pink with excitement. Even after all these weeks away, they still fell into their natural banter that seemed second nature. It was enough to make her forget for a few minutes how she nervous she had been when he arrived. How she had quickly grabbed her ultrasound photo and thrown it in one of her draws. She brushed her hair out of her face before asking, "Sounds exciting. And with all that going on up there you still want to come down and socialize with normal people like me?"

He shrugged, "Gets a little cramped up there. A man just needs a distraction now and again."

Her smile fell, "Oh, I see."

A frown spread across his face, "See what?"

She looked him over once more as she stood tall with anger. One hand sat on her hip while the other hung loosely, always prepared for a fight. He just never thought she would give this prepared look to him. Speaking each word clearly, she explained, "You mean that you need a distraction from the wedding."

"That's not what I meant." He snapped.

"What did you mean, John?" She calmly crossed her arms and blinked slowly. Anger simmered beneath the dark green of her eyes, and he noticed her forehead wrinkled the way she did when she was still deciding her actions. For a few moments, she waited for his answer, and when she didn't get one, she said, "Listen, I left the League so that I could build my own life. I can't do that if you keep coming here just to _distract yourself_ from your fiancee and wedding. You want to spend the rest of your life with her, so do that!"

"Are you seriously saying we can't be friends?" He took a step closer to her.

She raised her hands defensively and her voice with it, "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying."

"You can't mean that." Assurance rang out in his voice.

"I do!" She answered firmly, "John, I need to move on with my life, and in order to do that, I need you to _get the hell out of it!_ "

"What is wrong with you? What made you change all of a sudden?" He yelled back.

Her hands grasped into fists, but she merely shook them in the air rather than hit him. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to compose herself, before she answered in short, enraged chucks that bordered on shouting, "I just...I don't get how….John! You were the one that choose this path, and I simply made the decision to honor that choice. You want to be with Mari! And that's…well that's...but then you don't get to come running back here."

He turned away and shook his head.

She sighed and ended with, "I think it's best that we stay away from each other. We can't keep hurting each other like this."

Finally, he answered weakly, "Maybe you're right. We just keep going in the same circles, and maybe...maybe it's time we faced the fact that we're never going to be good for each other. In any way."

She nodded, "I think you should leave now."

"Fine." He mechanically moved towards the door. Without looking back at her, he collected his things while his jumbled mind sought to make sense of the situation. If he had turned around though, he would have seen the hesitation in her eyes as she watched him sadly. She crossed her arms protectively, trying not to show how much this was killing her. But he didn't turn around, he only paused in the open doorway as she spoke one last time.

"John…" She swallowed roughly.

He waited, back turned while she gathered her thoughts.

And finally, she whispered simply, "Good luck. I hope you find happiness."

"You too." He said quietly before he disappeared for good.


End file.
